


Story Time

by things_that_matter



Series: CMBYN: Life with Ollie [50]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Books, Bookstores, Brothers, Domestic Fluff, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter References, Intimacy, M/M, Parenthood, Percy Jackson References, Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:49:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29801802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/things_that_matter/pseuds/things_that_matter
Summary: Uh oh, there will be no TV night for Ollie.
Relationships: Oliver/Elio Perlman
Series: CMBYN: Life with Ollie [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2094873
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Story Time

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by ChalametGal

Oliver knew something was wrong before they even arrived home from school, before they even pulled away from the school building in fact. Not only did he know _something_ was wrong, but he had a pretty good idea about what that _something_ was. Ollie was always chatty on the way home from school. If it was a good day, he chattered on about it until Oliver wondered if he should remind the child to take a breath. If it was a bad day, then he would tell Oliver all about that, too. Unfortunately, Oliver had long ago noticed that on the days when Ollie had nothing to say, there was always something in his backpack that they were going to be none-too-pleased about. 

Oliver didn’t ask though. He would rather wait for Ollie to tell him. 

“Did you have a good day?” he asked. 

Ollie shrugged, turning sharply to gaze out the passenger side window in the backseat, where he was still relegated to sit and about which he was terribly disgruntled. 

“That good, huh?” Oliver asked, hoping to commiserate. This sometimes encouraged Ollie to open up. 

But Ollie only shrugged again, still staring out the window. 

“Did you get in trouble at school?” Oliver finally asked.

Ollie turned away from the window then to look at Oliver in the rear-view mirror. 

“Not specifically,” he muttered. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Oliver asked. 

Ollie scowled, but at no one in particular. 

They were pulling into the driveway now, and as he unlocked the door, he reminded Ollie to put his things away. That was one benefit of picking him up in the car each day. Ollie put his things away readily enough, but rather than coming out to spend time with Oliver as he usually did each afternoon, he stayed in his room and started his homework. 

Oliver stood in the doorway to his room and watched him for a moment before finally saying, “I’m proud of you for getting started on your homework without a reminder. Do you need any help with it?” 

“No, I got it,” he grumbled.

Oliver thought Ollie would surely approach him at some point during the afternoon. He made himself available, but Ollie never came out of his room. Not even when Elio came home.

Oliver had warned Elio about what he thought was going on, so Elio wasn’t entirely surprised when he wasn’t greeted by his little brother. It was a tense dinner at their house that night. Ollie scarcely ate, his eyes glued to the food he was pushing around on his plate. Elio also hardly ate, his eyes glued to Ollie. Oliver ate, but he still kept a close eye on the other two. Finally, as they were clearing the table, Elio asked, “Is there something you want to talk to us about?” Ollie shook his head. “No?” Elio asked again, gently. “You sure?” Ollie nodded and turned to leave the moment his portion of the post-dinner chores was completed. 

While Elio and Oliver washed dishes that night, Oliver said, “You’ll have to call his teacher tomorrow.” It irritated him that Ollie’s teacher refused to talk to him, even though Elio had filed a paper permitting it. At first, he challenged her each time, and would win, but it became such a hassle that he preferred to simply have Elio call. 

“Why?” Elio asked. 

“Because we need to know what happened,” Oliver thought this should be obvious. But Elio didn’t want to call the school. He’d had countless phone calls back and forth to the school and especially to Ollie’s teacher. He knew Ollie was a good kid, and from talking with other parents, Elio knew that other parents weren’t in weekly, sometimes daily, communication by phone. He was just about to explain this to Oliver when Ollie came stomping into the kitchen with a slip of yellow paper, a pen, and a deep scowl on his face. Elio dried his hands while turning around, then leaned against the cabinets and crossed his arms, looking down at Ollie with a rather severe look. They were indeed familiar with the _yellow slip._

“What did we tell you about those?” Elio asked pointedly. 

“Not to,” Ollie huffed, thinking that perhaps if _he_ was angry enough, no one else would remember to be angry. 

“What else?” Elio pressed.

“I think that’s all.”

Elio scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s not true. You’re not stupid, Ollie,” he said.

Ollie’s jaw dropped at his brother’s unusually harsh words. 

“Well, you’re not, Ollie,” Elio insisted. 

Oliver, too, was surprised by Elio's choice of words, so he quickly turned from the sink, drying his hands as well. “Hey, cut it out,” he said. There was disapproval in his voice, but to whom it was being directed was open for interpretation. He walked over and took Ollie’s hand, the one not holding the yellow slip, and walked him into the living room, Elio following. 

Once everyone was seated, Oliver held out his hand, and Ollie handed him the paper. Oliver looked at it for the briefest of moments. It was what they had known it would be. Echoing Elio’s earlier question, Oliver asked, “What did we tell you about these?” 

Ollie’s scowl had abandoned him, replaced now by a remorseful expression. 

“Not to get another one. But I didn’t actually _mean_ to get another one.” 

“So you _accidentally_ didn’t read this week? How did you _accidentally_ do that?” Elio interjected. He expected his little brother to make good grades. If Ollie made less than an A, it was okay, but it shouldn’t be because he’d simply not logged his reading minutes. Because Elio knew that Ollie did read. 

“I read but I forgot to write it down,” Ollie whined. 

“I know, Ollie!” Elio said. “That’s what is so frustrating!” 

Ollie crossed his arms and looked at the coffee table. He found himself mysteriously interested in the wood grain. 

There was an extended pause then. They were all thinking the same thing, but none of them wanted to be the one to say it. Of course, it was finally Oliver who sighed and said, “Well, you already know there are no TV nights this week or next.” Ollie loved TV night, so naturally they’d used it as leverage the last time he came home with a yellow slip informing them that he hadn’t turned in his reading log. 

Ollie bumped the coffee table with his foot. Not quite a kick, he didn’t think, but in his head he said, hi-ya. He hoped no one would say anything about it, and no one did. _The only lucky thing about his day_ , he decided. 

Most nights, Oliver or Elio would tell, rather than read, Ollie a story at bedtime. They all three loved to read, but they usually read separately. Then they discussed what they were reading with one another. But for the next two weeks, they would read together during their TV nights, making sure Ollie logged it on his reading log. With this in mind, they piled into the car and Oliver drove them to the last remaining book store in their town. Together they browsed, looking for a book they might all like to read together. 

“Have you read Harry Potter?” Oliver asked. 

Ollie nodded. “Daddy read those to me, but I haven’t watched the movies so maybe we could…” there was hope in his eyes, but he was silenced by a grim look from Oliver. 

“Maybe in two weeks,” Elio spoke before Oliver could, having seen the look on his face. They were becoming skilled at tempering one another, at least. 

“Oh, what about these?” Elio asked next, holding up one of the Series of Unfortunate Events books. He cringed then, remembering that it was on Netflix and hoping that Ollie wouldn’t mention it. But he didn’t. Ollie looked at the cover and then put it back on the shelf with a look of disgust on his face. “It has a _girl_ in it,” he complained. 

Elio rolled his eyes, but Oliver was ready to launch a long lecture. Ollie was about to give further explanation, so Elio took his hand and guided him to the next aisle before he could incriminate himself further. 

After a few more suggestions from Elio, Ollie began to grow annoyed. “I hate all these dumb books!” he waved his arm vaguely around. Elio muttered something inaudible under his breath, Ollie continued scowling, and Oliver crossed his arms and sighed. No one was happy, it seemed, which was odd since they were in one of their favorite stores, looking at the things they cherished most. 

“Ollie, you have five minutes to choose a book, or I will choose for you,” Oliver advised. 

“That’s not fair!” Ollie vehemently challenged. Elio raised his eyebrows and shook his head lightly as if to say, _I tried, but you’re on your own now, little brother._

“You’re right, it isn’t. Fair would be reading one of the books we already have at home rather than rewarding you with a new book for getting in trouble at school today. In fact, that sounds like a very good idea to me,” he said, turning to leave. 

“Wait!” Ollie begged.

Oliver turned and looked down at Ollie with a stern look on his face. His entire demeanor conveyed to Ollie everything he needed to know about how many more chances he had left today, which was hovering just below zero. Ollie thought carefully before speaking again. He reminded himself, _don’t whine, take responsibility, be polite,_ and all of the other things he heard so often. 

“I’m sorry I was rude. Please can we still get a book?” he asked in a tone that was part robot, part angel. Elio began suspiciously clearing his throat. He often laughed at the most inappropriate times, irritating both Oliver and Ollie. He had tried to explain that it was nervous laughter, but this clarification didn’t seem to help. In fact, they both offered him twin looks of disapproval then. 

“Five minutes,” Oliver offered. 

Ollie nodded. He knew what he wanted anyway. He even knew where it was. “Follow me,” he said in a voice that was quite commanding for a seven-year-old. They followed. Ollie walked directly to the Percy Jackson display. He picked up book one and hugged it as if it were a long lost friend. “Can I get this one?” he asked, casting his puppy dog eyes from Elio to Oliver, and back again. Oliver was now banging Elio on the back to help with his abrupt coughing fit. 

Oliver took the book and looked at the blurb. “Mythology,” he noted. “Sounds interesting. Maybe a little old for you though,” he said, considering.

“I researched it. It’s above his reading level, but if we read it together, I think it’ll be fine,” Elio, finally able to speak, offered his opinion, and Oliver was reassured. 

After they checked out and were walking to the car, everyone was chatting excitedly about what they knew about Greek mythology, and what they still wanted to learn. Just as they were pulling out of the parking lot, Oliver finally thought to ask Elio, “So, why were you doing research on this series?” 

Elio looked a little sheepish, but it was Ollie who piped up from the backseat without glancing up from his new treasure, “Because I’ve been begging him for this book for _months_ but he kept saying it’s not my birthday!” 

Oliver glanced at Ollie in the mirror, taking in how happy he was. Then he glanced toward Elio who was cringing in the passenger seat. “Good grief. It’s a _book_ , Elio.” Oliver muttered, but he was chuckling.

“I know, I know,” Elio laughed. 

Ollie laughed, too. He had no idea what the adults were so amused about, he often didn't know. But he was delighted because his yellow slip was signed and dealt with, and he was now in possession of the book he'd been wanting to read for months. Maybe, just maybe, this might be better than TV night. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
